The Adventures of a Teenage Con-Artist

Chapter Four: Stepping It Up

CHAPTER 4:

              Stepping It Up

The smell of buttery popcorn was still in the air when I entered the lounge. I sat down and picked up the DVD carry case that we were planning to use; making sure it was small enough to hide.

 “What are you doing up so early?”I spun around hastily when I heard my mother’s voice.

She was dressed in a form fitting pencil skirt and a white business blouse that hugged her curves flawlessly. She usually only wore that sort of thing when she was going to see the bank manager or another financial planner. She walked over to the kitchen and switched on the coffee machine. I followed her and sat down at the table as she began to make breakfast.

Before I could answer her, Dad swept through the door and started pouring two cups of freshly brewed coffee from the machine.

“Hey squirt, you’re up early,”he said.

I looked at him and frowned. He was also dressed as if he was off to a business meeting. The black pants and light blue dress shirt that he wore still had the crease marks that new clothing always had. 

“Why are you both so dressed up?” I asked, although I had already guessed.

“Your father and I are going to the bank.”Mum sat down and gave me a forced smile. “We’re going to see if we can take a loan out on our mortgage.”

I nodded as I bit down on some toast and chewed slowly.

Another loan.

Mum continued to rattle off their plans for the day, but after the mention of the bank I couldn’t focus on anything else. I knew money was tight lately, but I didn’t think it was tight to the point that my parents needed to borrow money again. The last time had only been a couple of years ago, and they had told me that it was a one-off. The toast in my mouth tasted more like dry cardboard when I realised that I was partially guilty. It was annoying that my parents always moaned about the money I spent on shopping trips with Libs, but I had never thought that maybe they couldn't actually afford it. I certainly never gave them much thought when I talked about going to Murdoch, which could only be classified cheap to the stuck up rich kids of the famous. If there was an award for the worst daughter of the year, I’m sure I would have been the number one choice.

Libby stumbled into the kitchen, taking a seat next to me and rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Morning Susan," she yawned. "Morning Mr. Edwards."

"Good morning sweetie," Mum replied. "Late night?"

"Yep, you know what Nic and I are like," she said, tucking into a bowl of cornflakes that Dad had slipped in front of her.

"Let me guess," Dad said, placing his hand on his forehead and pretending to be in deep thought. "You girls stayed up until the early hours watching horror movies?"

"Are we really that predictable?" I asked.

"Of course not, honey," Mum looked at Dad knowingly and winked.

My parents could be such dorks. I smiled and tossed a piece of toast at Libby who was humming softly while she ate.

"So, what are you girls getting up to today?" Dad absentmindedly asked, flipping through his paper to the sports section.

"Oh, nothing too exciting," Libby answered before I could swallow my mouthful of juice. "Just burning."

I almost spat my drink all over the kitchen bench. Choking slightly, I tried to control my breathing while glaring at Libby.